


Dresses, Dresses

by tolstayas



Category: Natasha Pierre and the Great Comet of 1812 - Malloy, Voyná i mir | War and Peace - Leo Tolstoy
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Canon Era, Domestic Fluff, F/F, Sort Of, also sonya is sort of out of character oops, oh well, some anachronisms
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-15
Updated: 2018-02-15
Packaged: 2019-03-07 06:22:39
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,105
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13428675
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tolstayas/pseuds/tolstayas
Summary: Some fluffy lesbian domesticity. I'm just here to love my gay daughters and spite the ghost of Lev Tolstoy.





	Dresses, Dresses

Sonya had bought dresses - it was unlike her, really, but it was almost New Years, and she had felt frivolous, and had gone into town with Natasha and bought two dresses, all ribbons and lace and tulle.

 

The sun was already slanting dimly over the window-panes when Mary heard the door creak open and Sonya stepped inside grinning.

 

"Masha! Come look at the lovely things I bought!"

 

Stepping into the hall, Mary smiled at Sonya, struggling with a shoe, her coat caught on the door handle. Mary reached out to help her; Sonya handed her the dresses as she disentangled herself. "Oh, Sonya, they're beautiful."

 

"Aren't they?" Sonya was bubbly, had been soaking in winter sun all day. She grabbed a handful of fabric, held a frill up to her shoulder. "What do you think?"

 

"Will you put them on? I'd love to see you in them. They must suit you splendidly."

 

"Of course! I'll but them on right away, I can't wait..." Sonya was already untying her dress. "Oh, Natasha told me such funny stories - I must tell you -"

 

Mary only smiled. Their fingers tangled and fell together, Mary helping Sonya with her corsets and petticoats, fingers brushing shoulder-blades and waist; and then the first dress, soft muslin, white lace, silk ribbons. Delicate.

 

Sonya twirled, then put a hand to her hip and leaned on the wall, raising an eyebrow. "So?"

 

Mary was blushing. "Just -" she giggled - "perfect."

 

And Sonya smiled, tilting her head, hair falling in the light, the red of sunset catching on her eyelashes, her collarbones. "Is that right?"

 

"I... I would marry you," Mary stammered, still giggling, flustered. "I mean - in that dress. If I were - you know - if..."

 

"Marya! How shocking!" Sonya laughed, holding a hand over her mouth. And then: "Oh - that gives me an idea! Pierre left his hat here, didn't he? Go fetch it! And I'll find my own..." Still laughing, she ran off.

 

Sonya came back promptly with a white hat, one she'd worn to a wedding once, a perfect match with her dress if a little large, a beaded veil pinned over her face. "Have you got the hat? Oh, look, there it is. Aw, Masha, why not? Come on! Proposition me! I'm in the mood for romance..."

 

And so Mary blushed redder, and wound her hair up and tucked it into the hat. Holding back giggles, she put on a stern look, knelt down in front of Sonya looking like an angel in her dress, cleared her throat, and, in the deepest voice she could muster, asked Sonya to marry her.

 

And Sonya gasped and blushed, and smiled gently, and feigned lovely surprise, and took Mary's outstretched hand and said "yes!" softly, as if out of breath; and then she pulled her newly betrothed upright and close to her, and put her arms around Mary's waist, and the two waltzed awkwardly around the room.

 

They were stumbling over things and tripping over their own feet in their agitation, and both laughing, and Mary's hat fell off and she said, "Oh dear! I'm afraid I've been exposed..." and they both laughed harder, and finally tumbled, all elbows and knees and hair flying, onto the sofa.

 

Tangled there, they lay still, gazing at one another, faces red, breathing hard, neither wanting to break the embrace.

 

"I'd be a rotten husband, Sonyechka, and you know it," whispered Mary, smiling.

 

"And better than any man I know," Sonya giggled. "Honestly."

 

A pause, ruffling of dresses, skin against skin, only breathing in and out, the beating of hearts.

 

Sonya reached out and took Mary's hand in hers, held both hands up to the light. "If you were to buy me a ring..." said slowly, softly. "What would it look like?"

 

"A wedding ring?"

 

"Whatever suits you."

 

Mary grinned. "Something delicate, I think. Like this dress. Intricate. One of those like we saw in the shop window the other day. Remember? With the pearls?"

 

"Oh, that would be so lovely."

 

"And what if we were to marry?" Sonya whispered. "What would it be like?"

 

"Lots of flowers," muttered Mary.

 

Sonya nodded. "And a horse-drawn carriage. On a sunny day."

 

"Not too many people."

 

"I would wear the most lovely dress."

 

"You would be beautiful. Not that you aren't already." Sonya smiles a little smile, cheeks pink.

 

"Mashka, now that we're betrothed - " soft giggling - "It's only right that you kiss me, isn't it?"

 

Blushing. "I told you I'd be a rotten husband."

 

"I don't believe a word of it." Sonya sighed melodramatically. "Or will I have to do it myself?"

 

So Mary took Sonya's hand and held it to her lips. "Alright?"

 

Sonya rolled her eyes. "You're such a gentleman, Masha. But - Masha's no name for a gentleman! What should I call you... you're to be... Misha from now on. My dear Mikhail Nikolaevich. My betrothed..."

 

Mary crinkled her nose, giggling, embarassed.

 

"No, really! We'll go to balls, you'll dress as a man..." Sonya went on.

 

"Sonya!"

 

"I think you'd look dashing in an officer's uniform, don't you? At our wedding?"

 

"Sonya, stop it..."

 

"Aw, you're no fun!" Sonya shook her head.

 

Now it was Mary's turn to roll her eyes. "Fine. Navy or army?"

 

"Navy. More exotic." Mary grimaced, giggling. Sonya laughed. "See, you like it!"

 

"I'm only humouring you." But she was still smiling.

 

A pause. Then Sonya tilted her head, looked at Sonya. Whispered. "May I tell you a secret?"

 

"Please."

 

"I..." eyes flickering downwards, embarrased smile. "I've absolutely lost my heart to you."

 

A brief pause. "Masha."

 

"Yes?"

 

"I love you."

 

"I can't imagine why." Mary blushing, looking away.

 

"Oh, well - why me?" Sonya was sweet, smiling.

 

Another pause. Then Mary leaned down and cupped Sonya's cheek and their lips brushed together; and Sonya smiled, and kissed her back. And they were close and warm and in love with everything and each other.

 

Eventually, they broke away.

 

"Do you want to show me the other dress?" Mary whispered.

 

"Oh, I am so tired, Masha, you can't imagine... I only want to lie here..."

 

Mary smiled. "Alright. As you like."

 

So they lay there, entangled in each other's arms, and the warm sun set over them in shades of crimson and fuschia.

 

The light caught the curve of Mary's cheeks, lit up her tousled hair like a halo. "You are very beautiful," mumbled Sonya, sleepily.

 

Mary was thrown for a moment, speechless. "Oh," she managed. Then, finally: "You too."

 

Sonya smiled softly. Mary, on impulse, kissed her - her cheek, her forehead, her lips.

 

So they lay there, entangled in each other's arms. And there is all happiness.

**Author's Note:**

> mayb follow one of my tumblrs? [@jewishpierre](https://jewishpierre.tumblr.com/) for musical theatre, [@tolstayas](https://tolstayas.tumblr.com/) for russian lit


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